


Terms of Enrampagement

by Wrench_Wench



Series: Fics from Wrench_Wench's Tumblr [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Archer-fusion, Cancer, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dark Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrench_Wench/pseuds/Wrench_Wench
Summary: Jason goes on a roaring rampage of revenge, and Stephanie gets dragged along.  Also, cancer.-Set in the pre-Flashpoint DCU, around the time of Batman Inc.An unfinished fic I posted on tumblr in 2012, and am bringing to AO3 in case tumblr self destructs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted April 27, 2012. AKA Jason Todd's deathday.

-*-

Stage Two

-*-

The bar was surprisingly clean and well lit.  Stephanie had expected her quarry to choose somewhere a little gloomier.  That was what most of the family did, at least.  But given what day it was today, it was possible that the person she was looking for didn’t want to be in any place depressing.  Steph could understand that desire all too well.

For as long as she’d been involved with Batman and his proteges, Stephanie had known that April 27th had cast a pall over the crimefighters (well, a greater one than usual, at least).  Nowadays, the date stirred up mixed and volatile emotions, thanks in no small part to the man she had tracked down tonight.  Maybe it was her own bias, but Steph couldn’t figure out how being no-longer-dead could be treated as almost worse than being actually dead.

With the casualness of a college student who attended frequent pub crawls, Stephanie scoped out the bar.  Spotting her target in a round corner booth, she sauntered up and slid in next to him.  He didn’t even glance up at her arrival, but continued to stare fixedly at his drink.

“Do I know you?”

“I hope so, otherwise I’ll be kinda insulted.”

His voice sounded utterly disinterested.  "Yeah?  Why’s that?“

"Because if you know every other member of our little family, but haven’t bothered with me, I’ll feel left out.”

That made him finally look up, his blue-green eyes inspecting her features.  "Stephanie, right?  Did Bruce send you?“

Steph grimaced slightly, "Babs, actually.”  Bruce was too busy moping around the Batcave tonight, angsting about his failures.  "Not that I mind.  It’s nice to finally meet you, Jason.“

Jason Todd gave her a weary smile in return.  "You too.  Though I’m kinda wondering why you’re here.”

She almost answered with ’ _Because Cass is in Hong Kong, Babs is busy with her team, and if any of the boys came, you’d all end up in the hospital._ ’  Instead, Steph adopted a cheery tone.  "Well, we’ve got a lot in common.  I figured now would be a great time to start a Dead Robins club.  We could sit around and talk about how we died, evaluate our final moments.  I think it would be rather pleasant, don’t you?“

Jason actually let out a bark of laughter over that.  "Only if we got really drunk first.”

“That part’s kind of a given.”

Jason sighed morosely, and glared at his nearly empty glass.  "Too bad I shouldn’t be doing that anymore.  Apparently my body can’t afford it.“

Steph quirked and eyebrow at that.  "What, are you taking medication or something?”

The other vigilante’s laugh had lost all traces of real humor.  "I will be soon.  I just found out today that I’ve got cancer.“

_Well, fuck_.  Stephanie couldn’t think of much to say in response to that.  April 27th really was not Jason Todd’s day.

 


	2. Rampaaaaaaage

-*-

Terms of Enrampagement

-*-

 

One of the first things you learn when you become an official member of the Batfamily is that if Alfred asks you to do something, you do it. Even if you don’t think you’re the best person for the job. Even if you really don’t know what to say to a twenty year old cancer patient (“Sucks about your possibly impending second death, my mom just got diagnosed too. At least you don’t have her substance abuse history”?)

It wasn’t that Stephanie thought she was incapable of carrying out this mission, or that she could think of any viable alternatives, it’s just that she barely knew the guy. The fact of the matter was that if either Tim or Damian went, things would end in bloodshed and massive property damage. The results would be similar for Dick, except he would wear a wounded puppy look for at least a week after, and that might irreparably damage his reputation as Batman. Babs and Cass were busy with assignments out of town, and Bruce was wallowing in angst again.

And so, it fell on Stephanie to deliver a batch of Alfred’s delicious chocolate chip cookies to Jason Todd while the butler attempted to “extract Master Bruce’s head from his rectum.” The college student felt that it was a total waste, since Jason would just puke them up. Really, she would be doing him a favor if she liberated a few for herself. If he had less food to vomit, he’d do less damage to his esophagus, right?

Before she could decide whether or not the cookies would screw with her metabolism during her next patrol, Steph arrived at Jason’s somewhat dilapidated apartment building. Resigning herself for what was sure to be a depressing visit, the teen vigilante tromped up four flights of stairs and made her way to the second door on the left. Refusing to allow herself second thoughts, Stephanie pounded her fist against the aged pine door.

“Jason! It’s Stephanie! I brought cookies!”

“The door’s open!”

Steph huffed, and twisted the tarnished brass knob. The door opened with a long creak.

The vigilante meant to make a cutting remark about Jason’s cavalier lack of security, but was distracted by the sight that greeted her entrance. Two long tables covered in lab equipment filled the majority of the cramped studio apartment. Steph suspected that the display in front of her was filled with better equipment than Gotham U’s chemistry lab. Jason stood with a test tube in his hands, glaring at it’s blue contents

‘I did not sign up for this.’ If Jason was experimenting with the most efficient way to blow up a meth lab (again), Stephanie was leaving. And she’d take the cookies with her. The last time he’d done such experiments, Jason demolished three warehouses at the Gotham pier.

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think this is.”

Jason glanced up at her, “I wish it was. That’d be a lot more pleasant.”

If anything, that made Stephanie more nervous. “Do I even want to know? If you’d rather be blowing up your apartment, I’m not sure I want to be involved.”

“Whatever. Where are those cookies you mentioned? I’ve got nothing to eat here, and I’ve got a serious case of the munchies.”

Steph regretfully placed the box of cookies-that-could-have-been-hers on a clear spot on the table. She peered suspiciously at Jason, and took a surreptitious sniff. “Wait, are you high? Are you seriously doing chemistry while  _high_?”

“Fuck you, I have cancer.”

“What does having cancer have to do with playing with dangerous chemicals while stoned?”

“Maybe because cannabis is proven to help fight cancer cells? It also helps with the side-effects of chemo therapy,” the former sidekick made a frustrated gesture to the test-tube in his hand before setting it down. “Apparently I don’t have to worry about that last part though.”

That side-railed Steph’s ire. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, my two thousand dollar cancer drugs are fucking sugar pills.”

The current Batgirl overcame her shock at her fellow vigilante’s pronouncement when he began to rummage around the apartment for weapons. “What are you going to do?”

Jason grimly loaded a fresh magazine into one of his pistols before replying. “Cry havoc, and let slip the hogs of war.”

Steph corrected him without really thinking about it. “ _Dogs_  of war.”

“Whatever farm animals of war, Stephanie, shut up.”

-*-

“Ohmigod, are you serious?”

“As serious as Batman on, well, everyday. It looks like Gotham’s supply of chemo drugs have been replaced with placebos – can you look for any records from the pharmaceutical companies that might give us a lead?”

“Sure thing, and I’ll make sure the local health officials are notified as well.”

“Hold off on that for at least twenty-four hours, Proxy. We don’t want the wrong people to know that we’re on to them quite yet.”

“Are you seriously going to investigate this with the Red Hood? Won’t that get you kicked out of the bat club, or something?”

“I’m not investigating this with Red Hood, I’m investigating this with my cancer stricken friend, Jason. No capes.”

“Well you can’t just go as yourself.”

“We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it. And try to keep the rest of the bats from finding out about this? I really don’t want to get fired again.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks. Batgirl out.”

-*-

The pharmacy was clean and brightly lit; not exactly the sort of place one imagines as a hub for a massive prescription drug scam. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place you typically imagined finding two heavily armed vigilantes. Well, Stephanie didn’t. Unless she was busting a robbery, or dealing with meth dealers who were trying to steal the store’s cold medicine supply. Or possibly taking out dealers who specialized in selling prescription painkillers. You know what, Stephanie could  _definitely_  envision many scenarios that would involve heavily armed vigilantes hanging out in a brightly lit pharmacy.

Being one of the two people threatening the portly pharmacists, however, was never part of one of those scenarios.

Stephanie idly itched at the edge of her poorly fitting domino mask as Jason made a show of pointing out all of his weapons. Even though she’d seen him suit up at the apartment, Steph was still impressed with the sheer number of firearms he’d managed to get on his person. Really, where did he even  _fit_ those grenades?

If this weren’t the same pharmacy her mother went to, Steph would almost feel sorry for the trembling man at the counter. Jason was one hell of an imposing guy, and his rage was palpable. As it was, she was content to stand back, and film the whole thing on Jason’s iPhone (she didn’t know why he wanted this filmed, and didn’t feel that now was the appropriate moment to ask).

“Have I made myself clear, or would you like me to show you the whole thing again?”

The pharmacist blubbered for a moment. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason’s tone was dangerously calm when he answered. “Now, we both know that’s not true. You’re selling these fake drugs, so you have to know the name of your supplier. All I want is who sold you your supply.”

When the pharmacist persisted in his denials, the masked man pulled out a wickedly curved knife. “If you don’t tell me who’s supplying you with fake cancer drugs, I will take this knife, and insert it,  _very slowly_ , into your urethra.”

Even as she recoiled in disgust, Steph knew from the look in the pharmacist’s eyes that he would tell them everything he knew.

-*-

If tonight were a Team Batgirl excursion, Stephanie would have made a quip into her headset about how cliché warehouses were, but that at least this one was in the suburbs instead of the docks. Given that she was with Jason, whom she didn’t know all that well, and who was in a distinctly (and understandably) bad mood, Steph kept her thoughts to herself. At least, she mused to herself, this place doesn’t smell as bad or look as creepy as the dockside warehouses. In fact, it looked positively boring; a plain cinderblock building with multiple loading docks, and a few empty tractor trailers sitting in the fluorescent lit parking lot.

It was the perfect sort of place for the Irish mob to work out of.

“I can’t believe that guy at the drug store - what a wimp. I could barely keep up, he was spilling the beans so fast.” The amusement in Jason’s voice grated on Steph.

“Well, gee, you  _did_ threaten to shove a knife up his pee hole.”

“Are you going to harp on that all night?”

“That depends, are you going to harp on about being sick all night?”

“Stephanie, I have  _cancer_.”

“Okay, if you’re so worried about that, then why are you so intent on taking on the Irish mob in your condition?”

“Because we both know Bats will hold back, and those potato eating bastards have it coming.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s racist.”

“It can’t be racist. I’m white.”

“Fine, bigoted. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. And try not to kill anyone while I’m with you, okay?”

-*-

Jason really had a flare for the dramatic. Stephanie had thought Dick and Bruce were drama queens, but Jason topped them both. He’d tied up the three Irish gangsters they’d found in the warehouse, and spray painted “Irish” above their heads on the crates they were backed against. He’d done something similar with the three Latino janitors that had been cleaning the warehouse when they arrived. And, of course, he still had Stephanie filming the whole thing on his iPhone.

At least the guy had great taste in puns. Remaking  _Family Feud_ , with a mob family? Priceless.

One of the mobsters, a middle aged blonde man, sneered up at his two captors. “Do you know who it is you’re dealing with, boyo? You have any idea who our boss is?”

Jason shrugged his shoulder carelessly as he loaded shells into his sawed off shotgun. “Nope.” The vigilante then adopted his best game show host voice, “But a hundred people surveyed, number one answer’s on the board - ”

Jason placed the muzzle of the shotgun to the blonde man’s knee. Stephanie fought the urge to cringe away in anticipation.

“- Name the douchebag who’s in charge.”

The blonde man clenched his jaw before speaking. “Vincent. Van go fuck yourself.”

Jason seemed to consider that for a moment. “Hmm, Vincent van go fuck myself. Survey says?”

Jason gestured to an imaginary game board as he pressed the shotgun trigger. The blonde mobster’s kneecap dissolved into a mess of blood and gore. His screams of pain were joined by the shocked exclamation of his two cohorts.

“Dammit, Jay!”

“What, Steph? I said it was a rampage.”

“Still, though.”

Before they could argue further, the blonde man broke in with insults towards their parentage. Jason brushed it off and moved on to the next mobster, a middle aged man wearing a hat. When his first victim wouldn’t be silent, the vigilante resumed his game show host persona, “Save it for the fast money round, Paddy. Now, for our next guess. Hundred people surveyed, number one answer is  _still_  on the board – name the douchebag who’s in charge!”

The man in the hat glared up at Jason. After a moment of the man’s silence, Jason made a fake buzzer noise, “Ah ah, I need an answer!”

The mobster’s only response was to spit in Jay’s face. The vigilante’s escalating anger seemed to momentarily abate with that move. “Huh, cock flavored spit. Well, you never know what’s gonna be on the board. Let me see, cock flavored spit?”

Jason made another grand gesture to an imaginary board, and simultaneously blew out the kneecap of the man in the hat. He raised his voice to be heard over the man’s pained cries, “Guys that’s two strikes. One more wrong answer, and the innocent Honduran janitors will get a chance to steal the bank.” Jason dropped his game show persona to speak to the bound janitors for a moment, “I’m just assuming that you guys don’t actually know what’s going on here, I hope that doesn’t sound racist.”

Jason turned to the last mobster, a red-headed kid who didn’t look any older than seventeen. “Okay kid -”

Stephanie found herself speaking up. “He  _is_  a kid, Jay. So - ”

“Steph, you’re in the isolation booth!” He turned back to the kid, “Looking for the douchebag. Who’s -”

This time, the blonde mobster interrupted Jason. “Mikey Hannity, if you say one word, I’ll cut your yellow heart -!”

Jason responded to the interruption by shooting the blonde man in the shoulder. Steph groaned in frustration, and a glance at the boy showed that he was terrified. The kid probably thought that joining the mob would be much more glamorous, like Boondock Saints or something. Actually, Steph mused, this kind of  _was_  like Boondock Saints, only the kid was on the wrong side of it.

Jason knelt in front of the red head. “Mikey, listen, I have breast cancer.”

The man in the hat burst out with cruel laughter. Without taking his eyes off of the boy, Jason raised his gun and shot the other mobster in his left shoulder.

“So, you’ll forgive my impatience since I, and a lot of other people, have been trying to fight cancer with your boss’ fake chemo drugs.”

The red head stopped shaking and exclaimed in shock, “Chemo?! They told me it was cream for male pattern baldness.”

“Do I look like I need bald guy cream?” The boy tried to interject denials, noting that Jason was reloading the shotgun. “Mikey, my hair is thicker than the Amazon rainforest.”

Steph couldn’t help but snort at that. “Yeah, well I’m sure we’ll figure out how to cause devastating deforestation soon enough.”

“I don’t pay you to make comments, Steph. Now, kid, you’ve got two options: if you talk, you get to keep your kneecaps, if not…” Jason aimed the shotgun once more.

“Franny Delaney!” The kid practically tripped over his words. “He runs everything out here! Drugs, prostitution, numbers, protection!”

Jason sighed like a disappointed teacher, “Small time crimes, Mikey. Tell me about the counterfeit chemo drugs.”

“They make the pharmacists buy the real stuff, and Delaney sells it to, I swear, I don’t know who. They switch it with the fake stuff here.” The kid abruptly glared at the bound and gagged janitors, “Those pricks do all of the packing.”

“Wha-? You guys were in on this? And I was worried about sounding racist.”

Steph sneered, “Were ya?”

The kid apparently decided that he was welcome to join in their conversation. “They don’t even know what goes on here; they can’t even read english. All those dirty beaners care about is – is takin’ American jobs.”

Jason jabbed the boy with the tip of the shotgun, “Hey, relax Hannity. It wasn’t all that long ago that everyone hated the  _Irish_  for swarming over here and taking all the jobs.”

The boy tried to rebut, but Jason ignored him, gesticulating with his shotgun as he continued to lecture. “And I’m pretty sure, and guys,” he gesture to the janitors, “feel free to correct me here, that  _beaner_  is a pejorative term for a Mexican, not Hondurans.” The tied up men made no response. “Huh, they really don’t know  _any_  english, do they?”

“Well, plus they’re gagged.” Stephanie knew that it wasn’t a good idea to sass the man with enough guns on his person to take over a small country, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“Still, though.” Jason pulled an IV bag out of one of the crates that  _wasn’t_  splattered with blood. “Is this the real stuff?”

The kid nodded his head like an eager puppy, his voice cracking with relief. “Yeah, this is all real. Why?”

Jason casually pulled up his shirt to reveal a portacath on the right side of his chest, “Because I’m way behind on my treatment.”

Upon realizing that her partner in vengeance was intending to start his cancer treatment right then and there, Steph decided to speak up. “Wait, Jay, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry Stephanie, did I mention that I have  _cancer_?”

“I  _know_ ,” the blonde vigilante didn’t even bother to hide her eye-roll. “But  _now_ , in mid 'rampage’? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Hmm, let me see, to take my prescribed medication for my said, afore mentioned, cancer?” Jason stabbed the needle at the end of the IV bag into his portacath. “Yes, idiot, I  _do_.”

-*-

Steph watched with irritation as Jason emptied his stomach into the warehouse bathroom. She knew that she should show more compassion, but dammit, she had known that Alfred’s cookies were wasted on Jason. She swore that she could see bits of partially-digested chocolate chips dribbling down the man’s chin.

At least she was getting all of this on film so she could use it to blackmail him somehow later.

Jason let out a groan. “I’m sorry I called you an idiot, Stephanie.”

The blonde vigilante let out a satisfied little laugh, “Heh, yeah?”

“Yeah, you were totally right.” Jason proceeded to lean back against the bathroom wall and withdraw a joint from his jacket pocket. “It was not a smart mid-rampage move.”

Stephanie felt her irritation spike again when her partner lit up, “And you think  _that_  is?”

“Yes, idiot, I  _do_.” Jason took a long puff. “Sorry, again, about myself. But you are being kind of a bitch.”

Stephanie seriously contemplated leaving him there for the rest of the Irish mob to find in the morning.


End file.
